


heat

by meanpancake



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-19 15:40:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4751813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meanpancake/pseuds/meanpancake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Aramis meets a stranger at a club, he doesn't know what he gets himself into.</p>
            </blockquote>





	heat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [naeviastark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/naeviastark/gifts).



> I promised more Mimithos, and here is more Mimithos. (And isn't that the cutest ship name ever? Yes. Yes it is.) Warnings will be added at each chapter's beginning.
> 
> WARNINGS: Kidnapping, violence (implied, definitely nothing explicit), mentioned murder/assassination.

She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him, laughing breathlessly. She was beautiful, stunningly so. Everything she did, she did with fierce purpose. The way she’d danced, lost in the music, not caring about anything or anyone – or so it had seemed -, until he’d caught her eye. Aramis didn’t even know her name, didn’t care, couldn’t care, not when she was touching him like this, in the toilet stall in the back of the club. She was a crass contrast to the filth that made the mirrors unseeing, the flickering of the light, the _smell_. The beat of the music, a dull thumping, vibrated through the floor, the walls, his body, hers.

She started unbuttoning his shirt, damp with sweat, and smiled, biting the corner of her lips and looking up to him with fiery eyes. “You’re looking fine, stranger.”

“The same could be said about you, _stranger_. Even though ‘fine’ is a very limited means to express the true nature of your beauty. I’d go with exquisite.”

“Shush,” she put her index finger on his lips. “Don’t ruin the moment with cheap talk. Fine suffices perfectly. I’m already here.” She smiled again, bright and excited. “And I’m not about to leave.”

Aramis wanted to kiss her again, but she pulled back his shirt and caught his hands in between the fabric, pushing him against the door until the door handle bit into his skin. A rush of arousal shot through his spine. She was perfect in every way, perfect, and beautiful.

“I’m not leaving,” she whispered lowly, “and neither are you.”

“I’m not. I’m not leaving,” Aramis agreed eagerly, and her lips brushed softly over his jaw, kissing the side of his neck, tightening the grip so he couldn’t move his hands anymore. He didn’t mind, he’d let her take him anywhere. “I want you so bad.”

“I bet you do,” a deep voice, a _chuckle_ , said from outside the stall, and now steps were audible, and alertness and excitement flooded his body, adrenaline making him feel even higher than before. The boyfriend, fiancé, husband, over-eager brother or friend. Forbidden fruit. His greatest weakness.

“Last stop, buddy,” the voice announced now, pushing the handle down, and suddenly he stumbled backwards – didn’t he lock the door? – against a broad chest. He struggled against the shirt, cursing inwardly, while the strange woman stepped outside too, shrugging one-sidedly.

“Sorry?”

“What the fuck is this-“

“Shut up or I’ll make you,” the man the deep voice belonged to said, grabbing him by the wrists, and suddenly there was a gun pointed at him. She still smiled, but not at him, definitely not at him, and pressed the barrel to his heart. _Thump thump thump._ Beating harder and faster now than the music.

“Are you ok?”, the man asked the woman in a soft tone – lovers, they were most certainly lovers, Aramis concluded - and she nodded. For a moment the steel of the gun felt less angry against his bare chest.

“Let’s get him out of here. I’ll lead the way,” she smiled at her complice, then found his eyes. “Oh, and if you try something… You’ll be dead on the spot. Don’t test my patience.”

The man laughed, a deep rumble, and pushed him in the direction of the door. “Believe me, your really do not want to do that.” And with that, he put his jacket over Aramis’ shoulders so nobody would see that he was, in fact, helplessly at their mercy. They took him in between each other, she hid the gun in her purse again, letting it touch his body ever so lightly, and the stranger put his hand on his neck.

It must've looked like they were taking him home for a threesome. Fucking _ridiculous_.

Aramis let them maneuver him out of the men’s toilet, through the club – it was almost empty now, and the people left looked wrecked and tired, but not like they cared – and the barkeeper waved them. He forced a smile, letting his body relax, so the strangers had no reason to kill him. Yet.

What they didn’t know was that this wasn’t the first someone kidnapped him. Or taken him prisoner. Hostage. A soldier’s past did that to you. So, yes, ok, they took him. Inconvenient, but manageable. Aramis just couldn’t figure out why they did this. Did they pick him randomly? What did they want?

“Tsk, this frown doesn’t suit you,” the woman said as they were outside again, cool air making his skin prickle; the shiver rolling down his body was caused by the temperature difference, and decidedly not by how they manhandled him into an unremarkable car. He wasn’t _that_ hot for danger. He was not. Not at _all_. (Except that he really, truly, undeniably was. Fuck.)

“You’re driving?”

“Hah, you just don’t want me close to him, do you?”

The man growled in the back of his throat – adorable, this jealousy -, and she laughed, taking the driver’s seat. He slipped into the backseat with him, the motor started roaring, and Aramis hadn’t seen his face up to this point, but now? He _saw_ him. His heart stopped for a moment, throat clenching painfully, something unsettling deep within his chest.

“Porthos?”

Porthos looked at him, confused, until recognition visibly hit him, and his face fell. “ _Fuck_.”

“Is there a problem? You know each other?”, the woman asked, looking at them through the rearview mirror with her eyebrows drawn together.

“Well, we know each other intimately-“

“I didn’t ask you,” she interrupted him coldly, and her eyes flicked from the street to Porthos and back to the street. “You want me to stop somewhere?”

“Nah, it’s ok. We go through with this as planned.”

“The fuck, Porthos?” Aramis was shifting, so he was in Porthos’ comfort zone, forcing him to look at him. “Go through with what?”

“Your assassination, sugar,” the woman supplied, but there was no emotion in her voice anymore, she was all business.

“Was that really necessary, Milady?”, Porthos asked, suddenly sounding tired, and something in Aramis’ chest flipped.

“Well, you wanna lie to him? He’s a clever boy, I think he figured it out already.”

“I saw your faces. I know Porthos. My chances of surviving are slim.”

“What did I tell you, hm? Clever, that acquaintance of yours.” The woman, _Milady_ , clicked with her tongue. “How come you didn’t recognize him earlier?”

“Different name. Different looks. Didn’t care too much, he was your target and I knew you’d do your job well.” Porthos shrugged at her, and Aramis forced the panic down, making his demeanor look as calm and composed as possible, while the word _target_ shot through his mind time and time again.

“Who’s your employer,” Aramis said and his voice was too weak for a question.

“Ironically, we have the same employer, _René_.” Porthos spit the name at him, and Aramis thought that he probably deserved this.

“Why?”

“Your dick got you into trouble. Again. I thought you’d learn after Adele- well, it doesn’t matter anymore, does it? King discovered your affair with his wife, and wants you dead.”

“And here we are. What a merry little story,” Milady said, keeping a close eye on both of them. She looked thoughtful, and somehow alert at the same time. As if she expected something.

Aramis made himself breathe calmly. “Louis doesn’t know. He can’t know. Anne would never…” _She loves me_ , is what he wants to say, but the words die on his lips.

Porthos snorted with contempt. “You really thought King wouldn’t find out about the kid? That you’re the father? Newsflash, you can’t play people like instruments. Not that I’m surprised by your recklessness. You haven’t changed a bit.”

“My hair’s different,” Aramis muttered, and Porthos made a noise of… disgust?

“Fuck you, Aramis.”

Silence. Aramis felt his pulse throbbing in his ears and throat, and suddenly Milady pulled over and stopped the car, turning off the headlights. “Out,” and there was no way this wasn’t a command.

Aramis looked at Porthos, but he didn’t look at him, just pulled him out of the car.

“Resolve this,” Milady told him, and Aramis’ face must’ve shown something like relief, because she was in his face the next second and hissed: “Just so we’re clear, I’d kill you and never think about it again. You’re _nothing_ to me.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Porthos said softly.

“I know. I’m doing it for you, though. Talk. Or don’t. Kill him or let him go, whatever, it’s your decision.” She smiled, traces of faded sadness in her features. “Consider this your Athos.”

Porthos kissed her, breathing _I love you_ against her lips, and the only reason Aramis noticed it was because Porthos used to do the same with him. He felt sick, heat and coldness creeping up on him in turns and leaving him in cool sweat, shivering. He wanted to argue that Porthos simply couldn’t kill him, because that wasn’t him, that wasn’t the Porthos he knew and _loved_ , but the truth was… he didn’t know him anymore. Not like before he’d left the army in a rush (sleeping with the commander’s girlfriend and getting found out had kind of left him no choice) and had, well, abandoned Porthos.

“Love you, too,” Milady replied in a tone that was so much gentler than Aramis could’ve imagined, then she pointed at him, the gentleness leaving her voice: “He’s shaking. I think you should… do what you have to do.”

Porthos nodded and his body language was so determined that Aramis flinched a little when he stepped closer. Every fiber in his body screamed _run, run you fucking fool!_ , but he couldn’t move. If this was his end… he’d meet it with the little dignity he’d left.

 


End file.
